


Hallowed, but Hesitated

by stardustedknuckles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Light Angst, Watch Talks, but def wish fulfillment, post-119, what if they like...talked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustedknuckles/pseuds/stardustedknuckles
Summary: Old wounds are close to the surface after the day's events, but the feel of them is different. There's something more to Beau's terror at feeling helpless, something that's been growing in that space. It's not a flower, nothing Yasha could press in her book, but it's something Beau might be able to give to her all the same.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 32
Kudos: 279





	Hallowed, but Hesitated

Beau's not stupid, and she's putting together that her friends are rallying to bring her close to Yasha. Alone.

And any other fucking day - literally just. Any other. She'd be thrilled to be here on watch with Yasha, if scared out of her mind. Any other day, she'd take the rag Yasha's using to clean her face and offer to do it for her. Any thin excuse to get closer, say a bunch of words she'll spend the next three days kicking herself over.

But all the fear got burned out of her this morning, so now there's only the exhaustion behind her eyes and the other feeling she's been running from all day. She would rather be alone for this part, completely alone.

Or getting railed by a stranger in a tavern, but as needs must.

Doesn't matter though, they're here and they should be talking - Beau should be talking, specifically, but it's been ten minutes of staring off into the blackness side by side and she doesn't feel any closer to speaking up.

Yasha's light is cast on a coin that sits between them - handy if they need to pick it up and throw it down the hall to see or cause a distraction - and she sees it waver as Yasha's body shifts to fold the rag and lay it beside her. Beau can feel her looking over her, can practically imagine her expression.

_You make me feel safe._

Beau's fingers tighten around her knees. She breathes deeply.

"You're not doing well," Yasha says quietly.

It's not quite a question, and Beau resents the way her vision blurs without warning. Her guard is down and she isn't alone, and if Yasha goes digging right now Beau's not sure what she'll find. She buries her face in her arms, says, "I'm fine. Just tired."

Yasha hesitates, and for a moment Beau thinks she'll drop it. She doesn't know what to do with the sharp disappointment at the thought, but she doesn't have long to ponder it.

"I've seen you today." Beau doesn't look up. "I know…I know it's hard to be overpowered. To have your mind shut off." Yasha's voice is halting, and Beau mentally adds "making Yasha remember bad shit" to the day's sins.

"Thanks." She almost means it.

The light shifts again with Yasha, seeming to flare a little before settling. "I didn't do anything, Beau. But I…I want to, if you'll let me."

Now Beau does look at her, rolls her head sideways to turn up one eye. "Is it the fucking? You seemed pretty gung ho about it earlier, but we'll have to be quiet." She's not serious, hasn't been able to bring herself to be serious about a quick fuck with Yasha for months now. It's the surest sign she's caught feelings, but it feels more like they've caught her and she's drowning today of all days.

Yasha almost takes her at face value, and Beau can't help but be just a little charmed at the way she looks like she's trying to find a way to explain, maybe to both of them, why that's a bad idea. But then it sinks in and she looks away, smiling. "I was thinking something a little more practical."

She picks the rag back up, dips it in the familiar jug Caduceus always leaves when there's no proper bath. There's the sound of water as she squeezes out the cloth, and then she looks back to Beau. "Will you let me clean you off?" Something like shame and anger burns through Beau, and Yasha must see it because she adds, "I know you can do it. I'm asking you to let me."

It shouldn't make her feel better just to hear it acknowledged that she's capable of using a fucking washcloth, but she's starting to suspect that Yasha sees even more than she alluded to her in her letter, that it was just a sampling of the things she knows. So she just shrugs. "Let me at least take off my own cloak."

She ignores the complicated expression that flashes across Yasha's face in the light and yanks the soft gray material over her head to set it down beside her on the ground. Yasha removes her own coat and sets it aside, and at Beau's confused glance simply offers, "There's still acid on it."

Oh. Because she's going to be that close. Right. Gods, why couldn't this have been any other day?

Yasha's sitting with her back against a wall, and she uncrosses her legs to make a space for Beau. When Beau doesn't move, she offers, "Would you rather I came to you?"

And that's the issue, isn't it? She already has come to Beau, and Beau can't get her shit together and reciprocate. Beau shoves the thought down and shakes her head miserably before pulling herself across the floor to sit heavily on her knees between Yasha's. At least she can physically come closer.

This seems like it's going to be easier to bear with her eyes closed, so Beau does. The rag is cool against her cheek and she startles a little, cursing herself before relaxing as best she can.

It feels awkward to sit this close to her without talking, and the longer the silence stretches the harder it get to keep from pulling away. "You get any good bone?" she asks finally, reaching for anything that might help not fuck this up. She might be miserable, but she's not quite at self-sabotaging.

"A couple feet." Yasha's touches with the rag are light but firm; she steadies Beau's head with her free hand and seems none the wiser for the way the warm pressure of her fingers on Beau's jaw makes her swallow hard. "It didn't want to come out from all of that hide, but I was very angry, so it didn't really have a say."

Beau remembers the feeling of immobilization from the light, the weird peaceful sense that she didn't need to fight, "I don't blame you. It fucked with your head."

She is close enough to Yasha that her exposed skin where the rag brushes cools under her breath. "That certainly didn't help," she says quietly. "But it wasn't why I wanted to pull its spine out even after it was dead."

Beau can hear the sound of Yasha squeezing the freshy rinsed cloth. "Was I right about the bone harp?"

She feels Yasha's quiet huff on her lips and her skin prickles all the way to her shoulders. "No," she says. "But it felt…reassuring somehow, that that's where your mind went. Better than the real reason."

She's willing to tell Beau, but the fact that she hasn't offered it means she's waiting to be asked. And if she's waiting to be asked, then the answer might be more than Beau's bargaining for. She can see all that with her eyes closed, and with the option of retreating she finds she can reach for it instead. "Why were you still so angry?"

Yasha wipes her chin, her lips, strokes the thumb bracketing her jaw over her cheek. "I closed my eyes because I was scared, and when I opened them you were gone."

Beau remembers the sickening feeling of being sliced and crushed all at once, of looking up to Yasha's closed eyes and reaching desperately before she was pulled into wet darkness.

She can't help it; she shudders and feels Yasha's hand stiffen on her face. She's probably worried she's scaring Beau off, and maybe she'd be right on most other days. But there's just no more room in Beau right now, and maybe that's a good thing. "I'm fine," she says again, but this time her voice cracks and that flash of vulnerability is almost enough to make her recoil.

But if she does that, she'll pull away from Yasha. And that's not an option, so she takes the momentum and presses her cheek into Yasha's palm instead and tries to stop shaking.

"You're not." There's distress in Yasha's voice, and now the rag is gone and she's holding Beau's face in both of her hands. "You don't have to tell me," she says. "Unless it's me." Beau screws her eyes as closed as she can and tries to swallow the sob she feels rising in her throat.

"It's not you. Never you."

"Then what?"

Beau lifts her hands to grip Yasha's wrists, unsure if she wants to hold them there or push Yasha out of her reach. "You said I make you feel safe, and I almost died and took that from you again." Her breath stammers and her eyes open, burning now as she chokes out the last of it. "I want to give you everything, but all I have is me. I can't promise you something I can't protect."

Yasha's face falls from concern to something that blurs with tears before she can make it out. "Oh, Beau."

Yasha's hands slide from her face and for a split, grim second, Beau knows she's said too much. This is the part where Yasha sees what Beau had successfully kept hidden even from herself until today; these are the damaged goods in the open to be measured and found wanting.

And then she realizes she's being pulled in, a hand just above her tattoo and one reaching between her shoulders. Beau's hands automatically search for purchase and brace one on Yasha's thigh and one on the wall behind her, and then Yasha's legs tighten around hers and Beau folds into her completely.

A dim part of her is aware that this is the nightmare scenario. She's crying where someone can see her, bracing for the moment any respect she'd managed to gather will turn to pity - and with pity comes a sense ownership that gets Beau's defenses up faster than anything.

But there's nothing but Yasha's heartbeat and the warmth of her arms, and Beau knows without having to think about it that if she makes a move to sit up, Yasha will let her. And so she doesn't, just feels her breath hot on Yasha's shirt and struggles to make sense of the sense of safety and the reflexive shame that comes with it.

Slowly, Beau's arms drift so that they're draped loosely on Yasha's waist, and slowly she's able to haul in her thoughts and set them apart to dissect later. Yasha's hand on Beau's back glides up and down over her fur-lined top, and for a wild moment Beau wishes she could rip that off too and just have nothing between her skin and the comfort of that soft and calloused touch.

She counts it a win that she manages not to break down completely, and another that she catches that thought at all to set it aside with the others.

Yasha's arms move to let her sit up with ease, but her hands don't drop. The one on her back moves to stroke her upper arm, and the other brushes under Beau's eye to wipe at the few tears that had eked their way out. Beau realizes she's not certain of the last time someone's dried her tears, and the fierce ache in Yasha's eyes as she stares for a moment at her damp hand makes her think that she's maybe wondering the same.

But she turns back to Beau now and her fingers slide again behind her ear to rest there as she presses a gentle kiss to Beau's forehead. "Thank you," she says, and it's so far from what Beau expected her to say that a breathless little laugh escapes before she can check it.

"What are you thanking me for, Yash?" She looks away, quieter now. "You're the one taking care of me."

"Yes," Yasha murmurs. "For letting me."

It takes a full second for Yasha's words to sink in, and she has to look up and take a deep breath before she can think again. "That was a lot," she says on the exhale. "I'm sorry if it was too much."

Yasha's hand tilts her face with the lightest pressure, and she waits for Beau to look at her again. "I think it was everything I needed," she says. "Now I know how to help."

Beau can't imagine her doing more than she already has, but she's not so bad at conversation that doesn't know it involves taking turns. Her knees are getting sore from the hard floor, so she braces herself on Yasha's arm and unfolds them before realizing there's not a good way to reposition that allows her to naturally allow Yasha to keep holding on like this.

"Sorry," she says. "I haven't really thought through two-person sitting in a while." She considers. "Maybe ever."

Yasha hesitates and places her hands carefully over Beau's shins. "I have. May I?"

Beau's going to need several hours to process the fact that Yasha has thought about how they would sit, but she nods quickly and lets Yasha pull her legs up and over her own, around her waist. Yasha's legs curl behind and slightly under Beau so that they're sat like two links in a chain - and very, very close. "Okay?" Yasha asks.

Beau's fairly certain that if she opens her mouth her heart will fall out of it, so she just nods again and lets Yasha's hands ghost over her legs to rest at her waist.

"Good."

The relief in her voice stirs something in Beau, reminds her that Yasha's been waiting and just as nervous. Her pulse calms, and she can speak. "I'm sorry I took so long," she says. "I was planning a thing, you know, I wanted…but I think I'm glad we're here."

Yasha's smile breaks over her face like dawn. It's a smile Beau would set fires and start wars for, if those were the kinds of things that would bring them out of her. "This is everything," she says simply.

Beau flushes and looks away, shame coiling up inside of her again as she thinks about what brought them here. "I'm still afraid of leaving you," she says. "I…you know how much I hate the thought of being left. I don't ever want to do that to you."

Yasha reaches up to push a strand of hair behind Beau's ear. "What makes you think we wouldn't bring you back?" Her brows pull together a little when Beau laughs incredulously. "I'm serious," she says. "We would come for you. Jester said it, before. If you left or you were taken, there's nowhere we wouldn't go."

Beau's mouth works. "I can believe that now," she says. "It's still hard sometimes, but…" She looks down at the blood and fading teeth marks scattered across her midriff, bracketed by fading acid burns. "What if you can't reach me? I'm just gone, and I." She leans into Yasha's hand on her jaw, closes her eyes. "I don't want to be the third one you lose."

Yasha's thumb strokes softly. "I would never ask you to make that promise." Her voice has steel in it, but her gaze is soft when Beau opens her eyes. "I didn't think I had a chance at happiness, Beau. I thought losing them was my fault."

"It wasn't," Beau says immediately. "There was nothing you could have done."

Yasha's smile this time is pained. "Maybe. But I had to let go of that maybe before happiness was even a possibility. And then I looked up, and you…you'd been there all along and I couldn't see." She takes a deep breath, looking a little lost for a moment. "I don't want you carrying that load. Ever. Don't keep yourself safe just because of me."

That's pushing up very close to a nerve made raw again by today's events, but it's only raw, not damaged irreparably, so Beau just nods. "I'm working on it."

"I know." Yasha touches her cheek, traces the line of Beau's hair where bristle turns long. "I just want you," she says quietly. "Here. For as long as you can. And where you can't, I'll be there to help." She presses her forehead to Beau's. "Staying alive isn't all up to just you anymore."

Beau remembers how she reached on instinct, Veth's hands on hers a moment later in the dark. There was a time she wouldn't have reached, she realizes. It wouldn't have even occurred to her to try. "Yeah," she says softly. "I think I'm getting it."

Yasha's looking at her with a mixture of pride and affection so strong that Beau feels her eyes welling up again. She swipes at them this time, and Yasha lets her. They're good tears. And it feels like something's broken up inside of her - nothing that will wash away all at once, just something that stands a chance now of washing away at all.

She settles deeper into Yasha's lap and croaks a kind of laugh as she looks up. "Gotta say, I really thought kissing would come before crying."

Yasha chuckles softly in reply, a sound that doesn't belong in a place like this and warms Beau all the more for it. "I didn't, but only because people don't usually cry when I kiss them."

Beau sniffs. "I'm full of surprises. Honestly it could go either way."

"Mmmm," says Yasha. "I'd take my chances, but…" She looks over Beau's shoulder. "I think if I start we might just have to call off watch."

Beau glances behind her and listens into the dark. There's nothing, but Beau knows their luck and she knows Yasha's right.

She sighs and untangles her legs just long enough to turn so that her back rests against Yasha's chest. Strong arms reach for her across her shoulders and hold her secure, and Yasha's chin comes to rest on the crown of Beau's head.

For a moment there's nothing but silence and the reassuring sounds of their friends sleeping nearby. Yasha's heartbeat pulses against Beau just under her tattoo, and she could meditate like this probably.

Except…"Okay this is bullshit," she whispers.

"Agreed." Yasha releases her so she can lean to the side and look up. "Just one though."

Beau's already reaching, meets her halfway.

It's three in the end, but the night gives them this much at least.


End file.
